“Impressive sight for one born in thatched hut by side of muddy river,” he announced. “Rich men here live like emperors. Does it bring content?”
“Charlie,” said Eden, “I’m worried about this caretaker business. Suppose he reports our call to Madden. We’re sunk.”
“Without bubble showing. But what did I say—we accept long chance and hope for happy luck.”
“Is it really necessary to see him?”
“Important to see everybody knowing Madden. This caretaker may turn out useful find.”
“What shall we say to him?”
“The thing that appears to be true. Madden in much trouble—blackmail. We are police on trail of crime.”
“Fine. And how can you prove that?”
“Quick flash of Honolulu badge, which I have pinned to vest. All police badges much alike, unless person has suspicion to read close.”
“Well, you’re the doctor, Charlie. I follow on.”
The taxi halted before the largest house on the street—or in the world, it seemed. Chan and Eden walked up the broad driveway to find a man engaged in training roses on a pergola. He was a scholarly-looking man even in his overalls, with keen eyes and a pleasant smile.
“Mr. Fogg?” inquired Eden.
“That’s my name,” the man said. Bob Eden offered Holley’s card, and Fogg’s smile broadened.
“Glad to meet any friend of Holley’s,” he remarked. “Come over to the side veranda and sit down. What can I do for you?”
“We’re going to ask a few questions, Mr. Fogg,” Eden began. “They may seem odd—you can answer them
